


From a Scream to a Whisper (The Icicle Works Remix)

by EmmaDeMarais



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaDeMarais/pseuds/EmmaDeMarais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean learns to live without his voice.  So does Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From a Scream to a Whisper (The Icicle Works Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [embroiderama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/gifts).
  * Inspired by [From a Scream to a Whisper](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3215) by embroiderama. 



> Original URL: http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/261400.html (AO3 wouldn't save it properly.)

In Dean's nightmares he relives the slashing of his throat over and over, feeling his life's blood gushing, abandoning his body; his flickering mortality reflected in Sam's rapidly fading face above him; the falling into a thick cloying darkness with a silent scream he could feel reverberating through his entire body, but not hear.

-

Sam's daily nightmare begins each morning when he wakes up and mutters a grunt equivalent to 'good morning' to a brother who can't respond.

They've lived in each other's pockets for years, but now Sam can't seem to let Dean out of his sight. His brother's never been shy about making his opinions known, but this new Dean - with permanently severed vocal chords - is like a stranger to him that he needs to get to know all over again. Sam worries constantly that if he's not watching Dean he'll miss some sort of hand signal or subtle gesture that's standing in for speech. More than anything he doesn't want Dean to feel useless, but understands - on some deeper level, past that one that still feels his brother's blood gushing through his fingers - that he's just making it worse with all his mother hen behavior.

Dean can still hunt; not much talking when you're killing monsters, though it does help. They revert to a whistle code for quick alerts: Left! Right! Get down! Behind you! Sam practices it in his mind so often he hears it echoing in his head as he sleeps and it wakes him every time, worried it's Dean calling for his help.

As for the part of the job that's not hunting, it would almost be refreshing for librarians to not be shushing Dean during research, were it not so tragic. For a while Sam refused to let Dean do any of their fake ID work until Dean went off on his own: taking a suit and an FBI badge with him only to return with more intel than they even needed. Ends up, according to the text to talk application he downloaded for Dean on the laptop, that he pretended to be a deaf and mute agent hired because of the Americans with Disabilities Act. Sam laughed his head off, not because it was funny, but because Dean had given him the literal finger by going off and finding a way to make it work. His Dean was most definitely back in the game.

The first time Dean tried to pick up a girl in a bar, Sam had to force himself not to watch. The first one came at his sultry glance and silent beckon, but freaked out when he let her see the scar as a way of telling her they weren't going to be having a lot of conversation. He let her flail a bit then moved on, moving to the other side of the bar before trying again with a knockout redhead who didn't seem to care about talking at all past Dean's brief raspy whisper in her ear. Sam paced the motel room the whole night, worried about Dean making it home like a mother whose child just went out on their first date and missed curfew.

He finally forced himself to go to bed, if only to hide the fact that he'd been waiting up, and properly pretended to be asleep when Dean returned after dawn to crash in the next bed over.

Now when Sam falls asleep, just after Dean begins to softly snore - the sound of him oddly comforting, Sam dreams of the old days when Dean would snark across the diner table as he stole Sam's french fries, when he used to snow sheriffs and doctors with fake IDs and smooth talk to get them to share information, when he used to laugh at a well executed prank... That's what Sam misses the most: his brother's distinctive laugh. It lives on in his dreams, but he'll never tell Dean that.

-

In Dean's dreams he's driving down an empty highway in his beloved Impala, his favorite Zeppelin album blaring from the speakers as he sings along with Robert Plant, mimics Jimmy Page's guitar solos and beats out John Bonham's drums on the steering wheel. His throat rebels a little - like it always did - on the really high notes, but otherwise he's shouting out his anthems to the night sky, loud enough to drown out the last words his father had whispered in his ear.


End file.
